


Secrets and Lies

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Ducking Out, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, kind of, past U!Patton, similar to suicide, very soon afterwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Virgil accidentally lashes out in his sleep. He panics. Things escalate quickly.
Comments: 69
Kudos: 284





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is in progress. I'm posting everything I've got written for it already today, so updates are gonna be pretty sporadic but I am going to finish it.

He should have known better. He really, really should have known better. He hadn’t meant to, of course, he hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t help it, it was an instinct, fight or flight, that’s what he was. 

Of course, sometimes the fight was imaginary. Sometimes there wasn’t actually an enemy there. Sometimes there was just empty air. Sometimes there was someone who was a friend. 

He let out a choked half laugh, half sob, sliding down against the door. It was locked, tightly locked, and so was his room. No one could get in, through the door or through rising up, he was completely alone, completely isolated. He hadn’t done that in ages, the last time was still when he was with the Others. 

He’d attracted them like moths to a flame, of course. He just made them all stronger, there was a reason they fought to keep him so hard, after all, he’d been a well of misery and worry and want. Fuel. That’s what he was to them, most of them. 

He shivered, pulling his sleeves down farther, trying to shake those thoughts away, but it was impossible. 

He remembered being pinned and panicked, Wrath leering in his face, his eyes burning bright and his face hungry as he squeezed too tight, the feel of bone starting to crack. A rush of adrenaline, and he kicked, hard and high, managing to knee his chest. Wrath let out a wheezing breath, and he ran, not looking back, moving faster than he ever had, locking the door and his room. 

He was just back from his first video with the Lights. Envy was waiting, even before he could go to Dee, he was shoved, roughly, landing hard on the floor. Envy stood over him, hands on his hips, glaring down at him. 

“W-what?” He’d asked, internally cringing at his stutter, he hated how it came out when he was afraid or nervous, it always gave him away, it had now, as he saw Envy smirk. 

“So, Mr. High and Mighty, you think you’re so much better cause you got to hang with the Scooby Gang?” Envy asked, popping gum. Virgil shook his head, eyes wide. 

“N-no. I didn’t even w-want to go, really.” He commented. Wrong thing to say. Envy’s eyes narrowed, and faster than Virgil could blink, the side was crouched in front of him, long, painted nails digging into his skin as he forced Virgil to look into his eyes. 

“So thankless. You got the golden ticket and you don’t even want it? It should have been mine, you worthless piece of shit.” Virgil flinched at the dangerously soft, almost kind tone those words were said with. He gasped, as his vision went blurry. 

“Maybe that’ll teach you some manners.” He realized Envy had slammed his head back against the hard tile floor, leaving him dizzy and unfocused. It was hard enough he could already feel the bump bruising, a small trickle of blood down the back of his neck. A small concussion, probably. He sat still as stone, holding his breath as Envy sashayed away, afraid if he moved a single muscle he’d come back for more.

As soon as he was gone, he sat up, feeling the injury and wincing, realizing Envy’s gum was entangled in his hair. He got to his feel and stumbled off to his room. His report to Dee would have to wait. If Dee saw him like this, he’d asked what had happened, and he couldn’t lie to Dee, and then Envy would be pissed and Wrath would feed off the anger and it would all double back to Virgil. 

Despair always came quietly. Like a panther, soft footed and so silent he didn’t even know he was there until he felt his breath on his neck. And even then, the words he whispered in Virgil’s ear melded with the voices in Virgil’s own head until he couldn’t tell what were his and what weren’t, until all the thoughts became his, until he was sure Despair’s words were the truth. They, weren’t they? 

Unloved, uncared for, alone, pitiful, weak, terrified, useless, stupid, coward. 

He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle the words, the thoughts, the tears, it was nearly always too much, and he would spiral, spiral down and down until he could see nothing through the dark spots of his vision, until he couldn’t breathe without choking on the air, until his chest was so tight it was all he could do to believe he wasn’t going to explode from the pressure. 

Most times he couldn’t slow it down, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop it, and the last thing he heard was Despair’s soft laugh, his too cold hand gently tucking back his hair, such a softly cruel gesture, but he always leaned into the touch, because he needed it so desperately, even if it took more warmth than it gave, even if it left him more empty than he had ever been before. He didn’t have time to dwell though, as the darkness took over and he passed out from lack of air. 

He was afraid. He was afraid, he was terrified, he couldn’t run anywhere else, he was backed into a corner and they would be coming and it was all his fault and he had ruined everything like he always did, like he always had. 

It was always his fault that Wrath got angry, he just didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut around the side. He always talked back and it always got him hurt and yet he kept doing it, he never learned. 

It was always his fault Envy pushed him down. He was so selfish, he never shared anything, he always took everything for himself, he didn’t mean to be so greedy, but he always was and Envy was only showing him what he was doing wrong. 

It was always his fault Despair came to him, fed off him. If he were just more positive, better at keeping himself in check, he wouldn’t be there whispering in his ear. He should have learned not to want his touches, he should have learned not to listen to his whispers, he should have learned not to care what he said, but he was so stupidly gullible, he couldn’t help but listen. 

He’d have to go back. His heart sped at the thought. Surely, they’d make him go back, he didn’t want to, he couldn’t, couldn’t possibly go back, not after everything. He needed this warmth now, this light, this safety in numbers. The Lights always came when called, the Lights came running if one of their own was hurt, the Lights came when they heard screams, ready to help and fight and comfort. 

He’d just stay locked in his room. They couldn’t kick him out if they didn’t see him. They couldn’t just move his room or anything, right? Right?? Oh god, could they? What if when he stepped outside, he was back in those cold hallways, those cracked walls, those stained carpets, what if instead of Patton’s warm smile and Logan’s careful attention and Roman’s playful banter he was met with Despair’s cold and Wrath’s skulking and Envy’s glares.

He couldn’t get their expressions out of his head. Logan’s pure shock. Roman’s unfiltered outrage, hand on the hilt of his sword. The worst was Patton. 

Patton’s expression. His eyes had been wide and watery, his hand had flown to his cheek, there Virgil could already see the swelling starting. Patton’s lip was trembling, he was frozen in shock, hurt and pain and… and utter disappointment in his gaze. 

Before that silence was broken, before someone could tell him to get out, before the yelling and the assault and the punishment could begin, he was gone, he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care-

But that was a lie, and even though the room was locked, he feared it would summon Deceit and he really didn’t want to do that, didn’t want to face anyone right now. 

NO, he didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want to see anyone ever again. He’d hurt Patton. What kind of monster hurts Patton? The one side that had always been there for him, always tried to help him feel loved, always looked out for him, even when the others hated him. 

It was all melding together in his mind, it was all muddling together, he couldn’t remember, where he was at the moment. He heard banging, knocking that got louder and more insistent, and he curled tighter and tighter, until he was just a ball curled up on the carpet of his room. He crawled, that movement all he could accomplish, until he was curled up under his bed, the darkness and the bed skirt muffling the noise, comforting and dark and quiet. He had had the foresight to put a soft rug and a spare blanket down there at some point, moments of panic like this not being as rare as the others would think, so it wasn’t the most uncomfortable. 

If the Others got in, like they always did, to feed off his pain and misery and strife, maybe they wouldn’t be able to find him, maybe he could hide down here and pretend he’d never existed, maybe the aura his room gave off would be enough. God knows, he’d never be. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stop it anymore, and he let the tide swallow him down into unconsciousness. God knows it was better than this.  
…

The others exchanged shocked glances in the silence, broken when Patton let out a small breath of air, followed by tears. Roman looked torn between anger, scorn, worry and care. Logan was still processing what had just happened.  
“Patton?” Roman asked, hesitantly reaching out, but Patton was focused on something else, his eyes widening and his breath catching as he realized what it was. He was emotions, after all, he could feel the distress. Without thinking he launched himself up the stairs, scrambling as he nearly fell, eyes blurred as he made it. He tried the handle but it was locked, he tried to sink in, but he couldn’t. 

Nononon not again, please…

“Patton. You can still feel him, correct?” Logan asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Patton nodded. 

“Then he has not ducked out. He has simply locked us out of his room. He is likely upset that he hurt you, and scared how we will react. We simply need to give him some time to calm down.” Patton took a breath, hugging his left arm with his right. 

“ok. But I’m worried about him, Lo. You can’t feel it, but it’s, it’s so… I’ve never felt him like this before, it’s never felt this bad before. Not even when he was about to… to duck out.” Logan nodded, lost in thought for a moment. 

“I believe you Pat. How long should we give him?” Logan asked, he’d learned to trust Patton’s intuition and knowledge when it came to emotions, something he had very little knowledge about. Patton was a lot smarter than he was given credit for, and this was one of his strong suits.

“A day. He’s probably wiped himself out by now anyways. We give him till tomorrow. If nothing’s unlocked by then, we start trying.” Logan nodded, taking Patton’s hand as they headed back down the stairs. 

Patton resettled on the couch, Roman carefully pressing an ice pack to his swollen cheek, Logan staying next to him on his other side, squeezing his hand in solidarity. 

“What was that?” Roman asked suddenly, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “He just hit you, pat, for no reason!” Patton bit his lip, and Logan shook his head. 

“You didn’t see it. You were just coming out of the kitchen. Virgil was asleep on the couch. He appeared to be in distress. Patton attempted to peacefully wake him, and Virgil, unaware whom it was, lashed out.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why! Why would his first instinct be to hurt someone!?”

“Ro.” Patton’s soft voice caught his attention, and the fire in his eyes instantly died. “He was having a nightmare. A really bad one. He used to live with the Others, remember? Who knows what… what they did.” 

“Patton is correct. Coupled with that is Virgil’s position as ‘fight or flight’. Undoubtedly his mind subconsciously chose fight, forgetting where he was.” Logan answered thoughtfully. Roman deflated slightly, glancing up the stairway. 

“Is he… okay?” Logan and Patton exchanged a glance. 

“No. But we are going to make sure that he will be.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other sides attempt to help Virgil. Virgil isn't doing so hot.

He’d got caught by Wrath once. He couldn’t keep them out of his room without intense focus, but they couldn’t stand to be in there for unbearably long anyways. As long as they didn’t grab onto him and forcibly sink out, he’d be fine. He was good at dodging, at avoiding, at hiding. 

He’d been caught by surprise tonight. He’d been tired, he’d had his headphones on, eyes closed, listening to music. For once in his existence he felt his shoulders untense, felt his breath steady and slow in his chest, felt his heart beating at a normal, healthy pace. 

Then there was a too tight hold on his arm, one that hurt against his still sore bones, and the nausea of sinking out and rising up. He stumbled, thrown back against the wall, feeling cold panic settle in his stomach as he realized where he was, took in the orange stalking towards him. 

He didn’t get out a word before the fist met his face, head cracking back against the wall, and he would have fallen to the ground except for the hand that was now wrapped around his neck, choking off his airway, slamming him back again and again until he was finally dropped to the floor. 

Then the kicks started, leaving him wheezing and gasping, and when he tried to crawl away, a hard boot stomped onto his hand, and he bit back his scream as he felt bones snap. It was his dominant hand too, it would be a week before he could draw properly, he thought hazily, through the pain. 

He didn’t quite know when he’d been dumped back in his room, or when he’d ended up under the bed, but he was there now, and his fingers didn’t hurt, weren’t broken, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was noise outside his door, and he shrunk back, pulling the blanket tighter against him. 

“You are my sunshine  
My only sunshine  
You make me happy  
When skies are gray  
You never know dear,   
How much I love you  
Please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

Roman. He shook his head. Surely not. He was imagining things now, out of pity for himself. Or it was a trick, a trick to get him to open the door, so they could just get rid of him. 

Despair was always the worst of them. His words and whispers always got to him, always wiggled their way into his skull and refused to leave, made him doubt himself every moment. 

He goaded him on, the more miserable he was, after all, the more Despair gained. He always pushed Virgil, always kept him going further and further, until pain was the only thing that could banish those words from his mind. He’d push hard on still tender bruises, he’d bit his lip until it bled, he’d rip off scabs for some relief from the unrelenting noise and whispers that followed him everywhere, endlessly. 

He never thought of it as hurting himself. He wasn’t doing anything, really, just adding to what the others had already done. Reopening a wound that would soon be opened anyway, cracking his lip, which would happen the next time he wanted to scream, but held it all in, pushing on bruises which never really faded before being added to. He knew it wasn’t healthy, of course, but what about him was healthy? He was too pale, too skinny, too weak, too stupid, too cowardly, too little, too late. 

But it was the false hope that was breathed into him every time Despair stayed a little longer, every time he spoke a little more, every time he played with Virgil’s hair or squeezed his hand or made sympathetic noises as Virgil ranted about everything he hated. 

He knew better, he knew that those insecurities would be used against him later, that the contact helped Despair direct his thoughts to worse and worse places, that he only stayed so Virgil would talk longer, so he could wring him dry of everything, until the only thing he could do was pass out, but it was still something, it was something, and that’s why he kept letting it happen, kept letting him in, despite everything telling him not to. 

Noise again. Quieter than Roman. Slowly, he moved, just a bit, peeking out from under the bed. Logan was reading out loud. He recognized the story, it was one of Logan’s favorites, one that he rarely took out of his room if anyone else was around, one he never let anyone else touch his copy of. Alice in Wonderland. It was one of Virgil’s favorites too. The weirdness, the nonsensical nature, it let his mind be distracted and his body just let go. 

He realized he’d moved closer to the door without meaning to, almost halfway across the room, and he held his breath, trying to tell if Logan had heard. He heard the turn of a page and the words continued. He leaned back against the wall, listening, falling asleep. He didn’t know how much longer he could go, keeping them out. 

Remus hadn’t been the worst of them. He was loud and his ideas were terrifying and his power was enormous, but at Virgil’s worst, they had worked together. Dark Creativity and Anxiety kinda went hand in hand, after all. 

They’d woven twisted nightmares and evil truths, so many what ifs and maybes and think about this, that it had nearly torn Virgil himself apart. That was when he was still half mad, when he hadn’t gotten control of his power yet, when with every word his voice echoed and the shadows danced and all too easily leapt to his fingers. That was when he’d thought his purpose was to give Thomas anxiety, to push him until he couldn’t be pushed any further, when he was so broken down his soul was cracked. 

Even then, Virgil was terrified of Remus, of the stories he wove, of his unpredictability, at his sudden movements and loud shrieks, of the smell of copper and rotting things that came from his room, from the open door of the imagination. Remus never laid a finger on him, was never even openly hostile, but just being who he was, was enough to put Virgil on edge. It only got worse after Virgil’s perspective shifted, as he realized he cared, he wanted to protect, he wanted Thomas to succeed, he didn’t want to hold him back. He wanted to help.

Deceit had cared. Or he’d thought Dee had cared. But he was a liar, it’s what he did. That had become clear the moment Virgil realized he wanted to leave, the moment he stopped doing what Dee told him to do, the moment Dee stopped protecting him from the Others and left him to fend for himself, because if he wanted to be Light then he could rely on the ones he was leaving Dee for, for help. The arguments and fights and words exchanged that had happened. The lesser of all the evils, because Dee at least was predictable in his cruelties and his coldness, though it burned all the same, because he remembered when Dee had been so warm, the only light in the endless darkness, the only safety in a nightmare.

Noise, again. Hesitant, quiet, soft. Warm. Just humming and a ukulele. It wasn’t Roman, clearly, it wasn’t loud enough for Roman, it wasn’t being played well enough for Roman. There were silences between chords as fingers fumbled against strets, but he didn’t mind. The humming was a lullaby, he thought, something he’d heard around the mindscape, something from that show they were always watching, Everything Stays. That was it. After a few long moments, it stopped. 

“Hey kiddo. I dunno if you’re listening. I… I hope you are. I really, really need you to know this. It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean to hit me. I know it was an accident. I know you were just startled. Please, please open the door, if you’re listening, please. I just wanna make sure you’re ok. I’ve been worried about you, we’ve all been.” Virgil realized he was holding his breath, he was almost at the door, he was almost close to unlocking it. 

“Patton, come on, he’s not coming out.” Roman’s voice. He shrunk back at the dismissive tone, at the annoyed heat it had to it. He retreated back to his bed, curling up underneath it once again, shoving his fist in his mouth to muffle his sobs. He wanted, he wanted so badly, to believe Patton. But he couldn’t. He was tired and heavy and done. His only want was to sleep. He realized dimly that he’d been doing a lot of that, too much of that, and he should be worried about it. But he didn’t care. 

…  
Patton was, of course, the first to notice, almost immediately. He’d been in his room, trying to distract himself, and failing miserably. It had been nearly four days, and Virgil had yet to unlock the door, to let any of them in, to say a single word back, to even let them know that he’d heard. 

Then, suddenly, click. 

He ran out of his room, sprinting down the hall to Virgil’s, hand hesitating above the knob. He reached out, letting out a silent plea, half amazed when the handle turned and the door swung open. 

“Virg? Kiddo?” He called out, stepping inside. He heard footsteps, and looked behind him to see Logan and Roman peeking in after him. They’d only been in here once, after all, and it hadn’t gone too well for any of them. 

“As long as we don’t linger too long, we will be fine. We know the symptoms now, we can handle this.” Logan said, using confidence he didn’t feel. Roman nodded, stepping into the room, giving Patton a small smile. 

“Oh Doom and Gloom! You alright?” Roman called, voice echoing eerily back at him. He frowned, getting no response. He exchanged a glance with Logan. That wasn’t good. Virgil always had a snarky comeback to his nicknames, they’d banter back and forth for hours, some days. It was their little game, and he knew Virgil loved it. Yet only silence greeted them. 

Logan flipped on the light switch, the room being lit in a soft glow from a lamp against one corner of the room, little purple Christmas lights strung up from the ceiling giving off the rest of the illumination. 

Patton frowned, going over to the bed. The sheets were a bit crumpled, no doubt not having been made the last time Virgil slept in it, but there was still no sign of the newest member of their family. There was no evidence of him eating anything, no wrappers or crumbs, and Patton knew for a fact the anxious side had some snack bars and crackers stashed away, just in case. So, he hadn’t eaten anything in at least four days, was that because he hadn’t wanted to, or he couldn’t? 

“Patton. Breathe.” Patton took a breath, realizing his thoughts had been spiraling. He pushed up his glasses, looking down at the ground in thought. He tilted his head, noticing the purple fabric just barely poking out from underneath the bed, instantly dropping to his knees, lifting the bed skirt. His hands flew to his mouth. 

“Pat? What- “Roman inhaled sharply, taking in the scene. 

Virgil was curled up in a tight ball, he looked so small, and Roman remembered that despite the side’s lankiness, he was the shortest of the group, as well as one of the youngest. He was even paler than usual, and his makeup was a smeared mess across his face, revealing that the darkness under his eyes was not simply eyeshadow. 

He was shivering slightly, and Logan frowned, reaching out to feel his forehead. As soon as his hand touched skin, Virgil flinched away, a shiver racing up his spine, and he somehow curled even tighter, a small whimper escaping his lips. 

“He’s freezing. We need to get him warmed up.” Logan commented, frowning. 

“We need to get him out of here, first, and it doesn’t seem like he’s a fan of that idea.” Roman replied, noticing how Virgil had managed to end up in the center of the floor under the bed, a spot that would be hard to finagle him out of, at least without his cooperation, which they were unlikely to get.

“We’re going to have to forcibly move him.” Logan concurred. Patton nervously fiddled with his cat paws.

“Do we have to? You know the kiddo doesn’t like touch.” Logan softened. 

“I know. But it is necessary. We will be careful, and as gentle as we can. I promise. Would you like to get the couch set up like a bed? And maybe start some simple broth, if he hasn’t eaten in a few days that will be best. He is also likely dehydrated. Tea is good, it will help him warm up, and rehydrate him, while soothing his stomach.” Patton nodded, already feeling better, now that he had a list of tasks to complete. 

“Ok. Ok, I can do that.” He glanced back once from the doorway, before hurrying down the stairs. Roman and Logan were silent for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. 

“How you wanna do this, teach?” Logan adjusted his glasses. 

“I think the best course of action would be for me to climb under and attempt to push him closer to the edge, so that you can get hold of him and pull him out. He may react violently, but in his weakened state, his struggles shouldn’t cause much harm.” Logan answered, the last sentence a bit strained. Roman simply nodded, arms outstretched under the bed. Logan nodded in return, going around the other side, then climbing underneath, careful not to bump his head. 

Slowly, he crawled closer, carefully reaching out. He softly explained what he was doing to Virgil, just in case he had enough awareness to understand what was going on, mostly hoping that his comforting tone would make it through to the anxious side. 

It was easier to herd him towards Roman than he thought it would be. At the simplest touch Virgil pulled back, flinched away, and Logan hated hearing the hitch in his breathing, he could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, increasing with each gesture. 

The hard part came when Roman finally had him in his arms. Roman carefully wrapped his arms around Virgil’s torso, pulling him towards the open air. That was when Virgil hissed, as if in pain, and began flailing, trying to fight off the force holding him down. Roman managed to pull him out from under, pinning his arms to the floor so he couldn’t hurt himself or Roman. That’s when Virgil broke. 

He started crying, silent sobs, shaking his head, still trying to pull away, to curl up, whimpering and pleading and begging for him to not hurt him, to please just let go, to please don’t- 

Roman shifted so the side was cradled in his arms, shushing and whispering small words of comfort and safety. Virgil was shaking harder than ever, too exhausted now to keep fighting, instead going limp and giving in, surrendering to whatever was coming as his awareness slipped away. Roman’s heart broke, and looking at Logan, who was dusting himself off with shaky hands, he could tell Logan felt the same. 

“He’s so light, Lo. He can’t weigh much more than 85 pounds.” Roman whispered, holding him tighter, protectiveness sweeping over him. He knew that he wasn’t the kindest to Virgil, but he still cared for the little guy, he was still part of their family. And he hated, absolutely hated, seeing any of them in pain. Especially when there was no monster to be slain, no direct cause for the hurt. 

“Let’s get to the living room. This room is starting to influence the both of us. We can discuss this with Patton there, and further check Virgil for injuries.” Logan replied, trying to keep a tremble out of his own voice. He had to keep a level head here. God knows Patton and Roman wouldn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil wakes up, and Deceit reveals a long kept secret.

Warmth. He curled back from it, feeling himself shake harder. He’d hidden so well. He heard voices. No, they’d found him, they knew. Burning orange eyes glared into his skull, cruel, cold hands encircled his wrists, and he flailed, bucking, trying to get them off, trying to get them away. But they pinned him to the ground, he could feel the hot breath, could feel the hands burning into his wrists, it was so hot, only Wrath was that hot. 

“please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, don’t this time, I’m sorry, sorry…” He sobbed silently, it was only worse when he cried loudly, only worsened the rage directed towards him from Wrath, the ire from Envy, the coldness from Despair. 

Then arms were wrapped around him, trapping him, and he felt himself being lifted from the floor, his heart beating like a hummingbird was trapped in his chest, and he was surrounded by heat, it burned against his skin, too much, too much! 

Then he was set down, and despite his exhaustion he struggled as he felt his arms being lifted, his hoodie being pulled up. No! That was his armor, his last defense, his last protection. His only padding against whatever was coming, the only thing that kept him warm, not that he was ever truly warm, no matter how many layers. 

He felt a hand against his back, and he jerked away, scrambling back as far as he could go, until he was flattened tight against the couch cushions, wishing he could just vanish into them, wishing he could just disappear, it must be bad if they were all here, he’d heard the voices, it was going to be bad. 

“Oh, kiddo.” Patton. Patton? He blearily managed to crack open his eyes, vision blurred, revealing soft blobs of color surrounding him. Red, blue, dark navy. The Lights. 

“sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to hurt you, don’t… I can’t go back, I can’t, I…please, don’t make me, anything else-“ He gasped in a breath, it burned, but not as much as the hand Patton laid on his shoulder. He flinched, waiting for the blow, waiting for the snap of pain, for the cruel words, for the move that would tear him down and break him. 

“No one’s going anywhere, kiddo. We’re not… you never have to go back. We will never send you back. I promise.” Patton was kneeling beside him on the couch, he could see it out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare draw more attention to himself, didn’t dare say anything at all. 

“Virgil. Do you have any injuries or symptoms we should be aware of?” Logan asked, voice soft, but it still made Virgil pull himself tighter, his words caught in his throat. He shook his head, burying it against the cushions, closing his eyes against the tears brimming. 

“You’re a little sick right now, bud, but you’ll be up and about in no time. No one’s gonna hurt you, love.” Roman’s voice was tender and gentle and soft, and for the first time Virgil found himself uncurling just a bit, because Princey was a great actor, but if he was mad, he made it known. If he was speaking like that, he meant what he said. “no one’s ever gonna hurt you again, Virgil. I swear it.” 

Virgil shook his head, hugging himself tightly. He refused to open his eyes, refused to see the mirth in them, the laughter, at his own stupidity. Because he was falling for their trick, so willing to believe they actually cared, they were actually worried about him. 

“Virgil. When was the last time you ate something?” Logan asked. He felt the couch press down beside him, and he willed himself not to move, nails digging into his arms. 

“dunno. What day is it?” He asked, biting at his lip. 

“Saturday. Midafternoon.” Came the instant answer. 

“Five days or so, I guess. Haven’t really drank anything either. Had a Gatorade, don’t know when.” He mumbled, wincing at the sharp breaths that came from around him.

“m’sorry.” He whispered. 

“Virg, what are you apologizing for?” Logan asked carefully. Virgil shrugged, peeking open his eyes, staring down at the ground, bangs hanging over his eyes. 

“everything. Existing. Bother you. H-hurting you. I should’ve known… better. I always hurt you, I always make it all worse, I should have tried harder, to keep it all locked up. To keep me, all locked up. I don’t… you should have let me just fade away.” He said the final sentence in a rush, the silence around him echoing in his head. “It’s always my fault. I-i-I know b-better…” He cursed his stutter again, hissing as he felt a hand on his face, turning his head gently, surprised to find it was Roman, looking at him with emotions he’d call sorrow and concern, if he didn’t know better. 

But he did, Roman didn’t care, Roman hated him. He clenched his jaw, turning away, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head against them. He didn’t want their false kindness, he didn’t want them to rub salt in the wound by pretending they cared, if only he weren’t so weak, he’d have kept the door locked. 

“Virgil. You haven’t done anything wrong. None of us wish you would fade away, and none of us are going to hurt you. We just want to help.” Logan, uncharacteristically soft and kind. He was kneeling at his level, before the couch, but he didn’t reach out to touch him, which he was grateful for. It was too much, being touched, too hot, like a burn. 

“Please, kiddo. Just… just let me in.” Patton. He felt the couch shift as the fatherly side sat down, keeping his distance. Virgil fisted the fabric of his jeans, breath hitching. 

“none of you like me, anyway. None of you care, really. You don’t want me to duck out again, but I won’t, so I thought just keep the door locked, just keep everyone out, that’s what I tried but I’m too weak to even do that right. ‘S not like anyone wants me around. But I can’t, I can’t go back, I can’t they’ll-“ He couldn’t even finish the sentence without a rush of dizzying nausea hitting him, leaving him light headed and gasping. 

“That’s not true, love. We want you. I want you. I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you, before. But I’ve been trying harder, we all have. It’s not because of Thomas. It’s because we want to help you.” Roman murmured, so tenderly, Virgil felt his fists unclenching, felt his pulse calming. He looked up, eyes haunted and broken, trembling as he looked up at Roman. 

“you promise?” he asked, Roman’s heart breaking even more at the smallness of that voice, the soft, fragile hope wreathed in fear. 

“I do, love.” Slowly, carefully, Roman reached out, resting his hand against Virgil’s cheek. The anxious side looked at him a moment longer, before letting himself relax into Roman’s touch, letting his eyes close as he felt the warmth emanating through him. This touch didn’t burn too hot, didn’t send spears of heat through him, scorching his insides, it didn’t freeze or seep into him, or leech warmth from him, it was just there and steady and solid. 

He felt silent tears dripping down his face, felt Roman slip off the arm of the couch, and slide onto the cushion next to him, scooping him into his lap. He didn’t protest as Roman held him tight and close, murmuring words of comfort and love and acceptance, each one chipping away at the fear clutching his heart, each time he didn’t hear the hiss of Dee appearing strengthening his soul just a little, until he was finally pressed tight against Roman, nuzzling against him as he drifted asleep, barely aware anymore of the soft murmurs against hair, the warm arms keeping him safe, safe, safe. 

…  
Once he was sure Virgil was asleep, he looked up at the others, eyes showing just how shattered he was as he continued stroking Virgil’s hair, rubbing his back, assuring him he wasn’t alone, he was safe, he was home. 

“What did they do to him? How could they have done this to him?” he said lowly, voice rife with ire and flame. 

Because they hadn’t even breached the topic of Virgil’s physical state. Skinny and light, unhealthily so, but Virgil had never eaten much, his own anxiety often killing his appetite. They’d known that, hadn’t known just how bad it was, but they’d expected that. 

They hadn’t known the hoodie hid a myriad of scars on his arms. They’d thought it was simply a style choice, but how he’d reacted to it being taken off… he was afraid. He was more than that, he was utterly terrified at being exposed, at being seen and touched. 

Had any of them ever reached out to Virgil? Ever held his hand, patted his shoulder, hugged him, leaned against him, bumped shoulders with him? Roman hadn’t and he was certain Logan hadn’t, and, almost surprisingly, neither had Patton. They did it frequently enough to each other, but despite “accepting” Virgil now, none of them had been brave enough to breach those waters. And it was clear Virgil had suffered for it, had thought himself unwanted, and based on the small part of his arms they could see, had maybe never experienced a kind touch in his life.

He swallowed thickly, imagining what horrors must trace themselves over the rest of Virgil’s skin, what other scars and marks and hurts marred the youngest side’s body, what else had they never noticed, or seen, or more accurately, chosen to ignore, when it came to Virgil? He didn’t want to see, but they had to, they had to know how bad it was, or they would never be able to understand. So Roman gently pulled up Virgil’s shirt, face paling. 

Scars, crisscrossing scars, like a patchwork quilt sewn together with pink, red lines, some old and faded so light they could barely be seen, others still puckered and probably sensitive, though there were fewer of those. The worst were the roughly circular marks, obviously burns, cigarettes put out on skin. Patton let out a muffled sob, hands covering his mouth, and Logan’s eyes narrowed, cold fury radiating off of him. Roman just shook as he lowered the shirt back down, wrapping a blanket around the side in his lap, pressing his lips to Virgil’s forehead. 

“Oh, dark and stormy, I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known. I wish… I hadn’t been such a stupid fool.” It was so obvious now, that his dark persona had been just that, a persona, a defense mechanism, another shield to keep him from getting hurt, to intimidate them enough they wouldn’t get close, they’d be too afraid to lash out against him. “I wish I’d been kinder.” He whispered, holding the bundle of blankets tighter. 

“Deceit.” Patton called, voice choked, surprising Logan and startling Roman, who looked at him in confusion. 

“Is that truly the best course of action?” Logan asked, voice strained and stilted. Patton nodded, wiping his face. 

“Who else is there? Not us, we never knew, never noticed!” Patton’s voice trembled, as he sniffled. 

“Knew what?” They all whipped their heads around to see Deceit, who looked rather surprised and uncertain at being summoned. His hat was missing, hair disheveled, wearing a simple black top and sweat pants patterned with his logo, quickly pulling on his gloves before any of them got a good look at his hands. 

“Virgil.” Logan noted Deceit shut down at Virgil’s name, his usual suaveness back in place as he leaned against the wall, examining his nails even though he wore gloves. 

“If you have a question, why don’t you ask the little emo nightmare himself? Unless you’re afraid he won’t tell you the truth.” He raised a brow, looking up with that small smirk on his face. 

“Shut up. We’re not asking. We’re demanding. Because if you don’t have a good explanation, I will personally lock you in the subconscious myself.” He took a step back at those words, coming from Logan, of all people, who was practically vibrating with rage. 

He took a moment to examine everyone, something he’d been too out of sorts to do when he was summoned, noting Patton, tear stained and worried, Logan, eyes red rimmed and furious, Roman, broken and afraid. And Virgil, wrapped loosely in a blanket, face even paler than usual, hair sweaty and slicked to his forehead, breath rapid as a hummingbird’s wings. 

Instantly, he was crossing the room, to get to Virgil’s side, to see what was wrong, because despite all he’d said, all they’d both said, he still cared, deeply and strongly, because he’d raised Virgil, he was his baby, and he was hurting. 

But Logan stepped between them before he’d even gone a few steps, and his face twisted into a snarl, fangs bared because how dare he get between Deceit and his child. 

“Move.” Logan’s eyes narrowed. 

“No. Not until you explain the countless scars that cover his body, no doubt from years of neglect and abuse. Not until you explain exactly what you and the Dark Sides did to make him so afraid of everyone and think that any slight perceived mistake is worthy of serious corporal punishment.” Deceit stumbled back, one hand grabbing tight to his shirt, squeezing into a fist as he braced himself against the swell of pain and regret and hurt. 

“I tried. I always tried, but I’m not the strongest, you know I’m not. I can only keep them back from Thomas because it’s part of my job, I can’t stop them, I can’t…” he swallowed hard, trying to keep his tongue from tripping over itself, trying to keep from telling the lies that so easily slipped into his words. 

“I did my best. None of you were there, none of you would have helped him, would have taken him in, none of you kept them from him! And maybe I made it worse, taking care of him, loving him, so obviously, maybe they knew hurting him would hurt me, but what was I supposed to do!? I didn’t have any help, I didn’t have a happy little family to raise him in, I didn’t have the power to keep them from him, not all of them at once, not when I was wrangling with Wrath here, and Envy there, and all the while I’ve lost track of Despair, and when I finally get them to settle and get to Virgil and he’s passed out from fear, do you think I wanted that!? Do you think I liked knowing Despair whispered in his ear, that Wrath would pummel the shit out of him, that Envy would burn him with cigarettes and blame him for everything that went wrong!? That I couldn’t be everywhere at once, that I couldn’t protect him!? You think I didn’t want better for him!?

Why do you think he hates me now, why do you think I pushed him away, why do you think I stopped protecting him, the little that I could protect him!? Because I knew then he’d leave! I knew he’d come here, and maybe life would be better, at least he wouldn’t get hurt, at least he had a chance of being happy, even if he had to hate me for it to happen, at least he’d be away from them, and out of their reach, and fucking safe!” Deceit screamed, eyes too blurred to see anything as he clutched at his hair and sunk to the floor. 

It hurt, it hurt to think about, the things he’d forced himself to say, to do, to push Virgil away, to push him out, to make him think that he hated him, that he’d be better off without him. It had broken his heart, broken him, being that cold to his little shadow, his baby boy, his only joy in the darkness.

It still hurt, he missed Virgil’s shy, small smile, he missed proud little Virgil, looking up at him, showing him a picture he’d painstakingly drawn, he missed Virgil coming to his room, ranting about whatever had infuriated him that day, he missed humming and carding his hands through Virgil’s hair, soothing him to sleep when nothing else could, when he’d been awake for days on end, and was slipping back into paranoia. He missed even the bad days, when he’d had to fight tooth and nail, spitting and clawing to keep the others away, because he knew Virgil was too tired or already too fragile to handle their shit, and he walked away exhausted and injured and half dead, but elated because he’d won, for one day, he’d won. 

Virgil was his heart, had always been his heart, from the moment he saw the little trembling boy out in the emptiness of the subconscious, from the moment he’d pulled him out of there, and Virgil had clung to him, told him his name, his role, and despite everything, trusted him, he’d loved Virgil with every fiber of his being. He’d been selfish to keep him as long as he had, to let himself become attached, to let Virgil get attached to him, it had been a mistake, and it had broken Virgil’s heart and shattered his own to pieces. 

“I didn’t have a choice. They were drawn to him, they fed off him, and I didn’t… what else could I do? I couldn’t… I still lost him, but at least it was to you. At least he was still here, still around, and not torn to pieces by them. Even if he hated me, at least I could still see him, every once in a while. At least he wasn’t dead!” Deceit was broken. He couldn’t hold it together anymore, he couldn’t keep it in anymore, he was done pretending not to care, done pretending to be put together and smooth and sure of himself.   
“He was never supposed to be there, anyways.” Deceit said softly.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, tilting his head as he tried to process everything Deceit had just said. Deceit barked out a harsh laugh, pushing himself to his feet, eyes burning with ire. 

“Oh, come now, Logic, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Surely, you’ve noticed. New sides appear in the common area of the side of the mindscape they belong to, Light or Dark.” 

“Deceit-“ Patton began, but with a flourish, Patton’s hand slapped over his mouth, silencing him. Roman growled, but Logan simply nodded, listening. Good. At least one of them was. 

“But to my knowledge, he did not. You pulled him out of the subconscious, thus forming a side.” Deceit hissed. 

“I know you like to think of me as the all-powerful villain, but please, Logan, use your head. I cannot make a side. Sides don’t appear in the subconscious. So, what’s the logical conclusion, hmm?” He asked, watching Logan’s mind work as poorly masked emotions flashed across his face, and he finally inhaled sharply. 

“he appeared in the commons. He was supposed to be a Light Side. Someone tried to banish him, make him fade away.” Deceit clapped his hands, twisted, pained smile on his face, fangs bared. 

“Very good, Logan! You should have had him, from the start. He never belonged down there, he was always meant to be a light side, he was never made to survive in that darkness, not with them. But you sent him there anyway, didn’t you, Morality? Sent him to the subconscious when he was just newly formed and didn’t know what was happening all so he wouldn’t ruin Thomas. So, don’t blame me, Logan, don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy, because I’m not the one who threw Virgil to the wolves. That was your dear old dad.” He sneered, anger rising up to replace his pain, because how dare they accuse him, when they weren’t there, when they hadn’t helped, when they were the reason he’d ever been hurt. 

“Do you know, what fading feels like, Morality? It burns so hot it’s cold, it eats away at your fingertips and toes, wreathing you in smokey acid, tearing you apart atom by atom until you can’t even feel anything else, until each second stretches out into years, and you scream even though there’s no point, because no one can hear you, no one cares, that’s how you ended up there in the first place! And I,” He paused, hand on his chest, breath heaving in and out of him as he glared at Patton, trying to burn him with his eyes. “I knew what was happening. He was new, he was brand new, and you did that, to him! He was terrified, he was so small and afraid and already broken and his very first experience was not being wanted and being thrown away for who he was. So don’t talk to me about being a happy little family, all perfect and supportive and kind, don’t lecture me about protecting and caring, don’t scold and berate me for his scars, because I know I wasn’t good enough, I know I wasn’t there, I treated and patched up and pulled together every single one of them, and I have my own scars to prove it, but at least I was THERE. And you caused it.” He hissed, Patton shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks, shrinking into the couch.

He shook with anger as he shoved a stunned Logan aside, glaring at Patton as he stalked past him, who at least had the decency to look ashamed, face burning red as Deceit dropped the power silencing Patton. Finally, he slid onto the couch beside Roman, who was too shocked at his outburst to do or say anything. Shakily, he reached out, feeling Virgil’s forehead, hand trailing across his face to cup his cheek, gently running his thumb over it. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, starlight, baby boy, my little black hole, my dark eclipse, my stormy night. I did so much wrong, I fucked so much up, I hoped you would be better off here, I never meant to hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you, and I’m so… I’m so proud of you, Vee. I always have been.” He said shakily, closing his eyes and letting out a long, low breath. “I’m sorry, dearest.”

“Dee?” He held his breath at the use of his old nickname, tears coming to his eyes, how long had it been since he’d heard that voice sound so soft towards him? He tensed as he felt Virgil place a hand over his where it rested on Virgil’s cheek. 

“I should go. I shouldn’t be here, I didn’t mean to be here.” He was surprised when he opened his eyes to see Virgil shaking his head, wriggling out of Roman’s grip and sliding onto his lap instead. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” He asked, and Deceit looked away. 

“Because you wouldn’t have left. If I’d just asked, you wouldn’t have left me.” His voice broke on the last word, but he refused to cry more, refused to let tears fall, because Virgil was the one who was hurting, and he had to be strong for him, he was always strong for Virgil. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

“Am I wrong?” His eyes met Virgil’s, who bit his lip, slowly shaking his head. 

“That doesn’t make you any less of an idiot, pops.” Then Virgil threw his arms around him, and Deceit hugged him back, burying his face against Virgil’s shoulder, cradling his head, rubbing his back and shushing him gently, letting the tears slowly drip down his face now, letting himself feel all the pain and hurt and longing and fear of the past few years as he hugged his baby tighter, god, when was the last time he was hugged, when was the last time he didn’t have to worry, when was the last time he was holding his perfect little boy? He didn't know. He didn't care about anything else right now. He won't ever let go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out and shit gets real.

Silence. A long, deafening silence that screamed so loud it hurt.

“Patton… you didn’t… he’s… he’s lying, right? He’s…” Roman had moved to stand beside Logan, who was simply staring at Patton, seemingly at a loss for words. Patton was shaking, tears streaming down his face as he struggled for words. Instead he just bit his lip and looked away. 

“Patton? C-come on, Pat, just… just say you didn’t do it!” Roman pleaded. 

“Roman. I need you to calm down.” Logan finally said, though his voice was thin and cracked. 

“No! I can’t… not until Patton tells me he didn’t do it! How could he… He’s Patton! He loves decorating cookies, and making hot chocolate, and laughing at stupid puns, and taking care of us when we’re sick or get hurt, and he’s kind and sweet and smart and he’d never… he’d never banish someone to the Subconscious, especially not Virgil! He loves Virgil!” Roman cried, fists clenched at his sides, glaring at Logan. 

“Now, but think about when Virgil first showed up in the video, everyone was less than thrilled, reacted less than ideally-“ 

“That doesn’t mean he did it!” 

“How do you think I ended up there, Roman? You think I just waltz into the subconscious for a daily walk, stroll around and take in the view? You think Morality wanted me around, either? You think Virgil was the first one He tried to get rid of?” Deceit scoffed, voice lacking the rage from earlier, now just sad and tired. “I’ve been there more than a few times, and not by choice.”

“Well maybe you deserved it!” Roman yelled, whirling on Deceit. 

“Lay off, Princey. He hasn’t done anything.” Virgil growled, holding Deceit tighter in his arms as the side buried his head back against his chest, trembling. 

“You were there! Come on, Virgil.” Virgil shook his head. 

“I don’t remember. I was sick… the first thing I remember is Dee singing to me, dabbing a wet cloth on my forehead.”

“See? The only one whose word we have to rely on is literally named Deceit!” 

“roman.” 

“So, it’s not true, and everything’s fine, and-“ 

“ROMAN!” Patton yelled, the shock of Patton yelling silencing Roman as he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around, face to face with Patton. 

“I did it. I th-thought it was for the b-best. I th-thought we didn’t need anxiety, it would only hold Thomas back, and th-then Deceit found him and h-h-he knew and I was scared I’d lose all of you, if you knew, too, so I tr-tr-tried to get rid of him, b-but I c-c-couldn’t do it, I c-c-couldn’t and I knew it was wrong but I did it for Thomas! Don’t you s-see, I was trying to help him!” Patton cried, leaving Roman agape. Roman inhaled a sharp breath, then stepped back. 

“Kiddo-“ Patton pleaded, reaching out, but Roman shook his head, backing away, eyes gone cold. 

“No. I’m not your kiddo. You’re not my dad. Not anymore.” Patton turned his eyes to Logan, who stood still and unmoving, arms crossed and face hard as stone, unflinching in his judgement. 

“I’m s-s-sorry.” Patton whispered. 

“Are you? Or are you sorry you got caught?” Logan asked, steel in his voice, and Patton let out a sob, stumbling back and sinking out without another word. Roman let out a low, wounded growl, stalking away. Virgil flinched as he punched the wall. Logan approached him slowly, like one would a wounded animal. 

“Roman.” Roman’s shoulders slumped as he let out a shuddering breath, head hanging low. Slowly, Logan reached out, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “It is going to be all right.” Roman let out a choked laugh. 

“How? How could it possibly be ok after this, Logan? After he-“ He bit off his words. 

“I… I don’t have an immediate solution but surely-“ He didn’t notice Roman tensing until the creative side spun around, shoving Logan back a step, anger flashing across his face, before regret and shock settled. 

“Roman-“ 

“Don’t. Just… Logan, just don’t.” Roman looked away as he sunk out, desperately trying to contain the emotions welling through him, immediately going to the imagination, where he could let loose without fear. 

“Logan-“ 

“I will go check on the broth that was started earlier. You should try and eat a full bowl, at least, you are likely nutrient deprived as well as simply starving. If the broth goes well, we can try something more solid later, perhaps eggs and toast. I don’t want to overwhelm your stomach. I’ll get you some water, as well. You need to get hydrated.” Logan stated, voice far too even, eyes closed off and guarded as he swept out of the room. 

“i’m sorry.” Deceit whispered, not finding the strength in him to pull himself away from Virgil and his warmth and his presence and his acceptance. 

“for what, Dee? None of this is your fault. You did… you did so much for me, you fought so hard for me. You don’t need to be sorry for anything.” 

“I didn’t… I shouldn’t have said all that. I just got so mad, at Logan, at all of them, implying I’d ever h-hurt you, like that. I ruined everything you had, here.” He answered. 

“Falsehood.” Logan’s voice rang out, and Deceit flinched. “You simply brought to light truths we had been too blind to see or unwilling to accept, which is your job. And I… apologize. For my accusations.” Virgil slid off of Deceit’s lap to sit on the couch as Logan handed him a bowl of broth. Deceit shivered at the loss of warmth, though Virgil didn’t go far, still pressed against his side as he blew on a spoonful of liquid. 

“It’s fine.” He mumbled, looking away. 

“It’s not. I especially understand the limitations and reaches of your powers, and yet I let you be blamed for everything, knowing how hard you work to contain them. I know you have always had Thomas’s best interests in mind, even if your methods are different than ours. I am sorry I did not step in sooner to make that clear to everyone.” Deceit opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words, for something to say in the face of Logan’s unexpected and unwarranted kindness. 

“Virgil. How are you feeling?” Logan asked, mercifully turning his attentions away from Dee. Virgil set aside his now empty bowl, shrugging, flipping up his hood. 

“I thought… I thought Patton loved me. I thought he cared…” Virgil’s voice cracked, and he swiped at his eyes. “Did he only care out of guilt? Because he was afraid I remembered and would say something? Why… how could he?” Virgil asked, voice small. 

“I don’t know. We were young, but that is not an excuse. He was old enough to know what he was doing was wrong, and he did it anyway. I believe Patton does love you, Virgil, he has changed, since then, become more able to see the gray between the black and white.” Logan replied, sitting down on the other side of Virgil, placing a comforting hand on his knee. Virgil let out a shuddering breath, but didn’t pull away. “Patton hates change, and he likely thought that you appearing would cause Thomas harm, would upset the dynamic of the group and make things uneasy and uncertain. These reasons don’t validate what he did but… it is an explanation.” Logan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to parse logic from the emotions overwhelming him.

“Deceit, how exactly did you end up in the subconscious?” Logan asked, suspecting the answer but needing to hear it to believe it.

“I… it was… punishment. When I made Thomas lie. It was like… like a time out. So I would learn my lesson. It hasn’t happened in years… not since I found Virgil. I don’t know if he stopped because he was afraid I had dirt on him, would tell you all what he’d done, or if it was something else. It… it was never long enough to do any lasting physical damage. Just… just enough pain, to try and make me reconsider the error of my ways.” Deceit’s face twisted as he spat out those words, clearing having heard them repeated to him many times, too many times. “He wanted Thomas to be an honest person. Lying… well, that is extraneous and unnecessary.” 

“I am sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for any of this, but I am truly sorry. If I had known I would not have let that behavior continue for a second. Lying is necessary and vital in keeping Thomas safe. You protected him so well when none of us could, before he came out, and preserved precious friendships and relationships, helped Thomas avoid dangerous situations. While I don’t always agree with your methods, I understand your purpose, and I understand that Deception is not the only role that you play. I hadn’t considered the Others would be so hostile towards you, but I should have guessed, given your role in keeping them hidden. I know it doesn’t go without saying, but you are welcome to stay here, I’d rather you did, instead of going back and continuing to get hurt. I will speak to Roman about relocating your room, if you like. It is your choice, of course, I will not force you to do anything you are not comfortable with.” He paused, shaking his head and getting to his feet. “I need to speak with Patton. I need… I need to hear what he has to say. Will you be alright here with Virgil, De-“ 

“Nirhos.” Deceit cut Logan off mid-sentence, instantly biting the inside of his cheek, noting the confused look on Logan’s face. Yet another reason he loved his stormy night, despite their differences, the forced animosity between them, Virgil had never once told the others his name, never once used it against him. He could feel Virgil’s eyes on him now, surprised, but a small smile was tugging at his lips. 

“Pardon?” Logan asked, looking slightly stunned, as if he knew what Deceit had just revealed, but was too surprised to believe it. 

“Nirhos. My name, is Nirhos.” He was rewarded with one of Logan’s rare, small, proud smiles, that lit up his eyes and softened his perpetually stern face into something warm. 

“Nirhos. Well, it is a pleasure and honor to meet you.” Logan replied, serious once more, in a way that made Nirhos feel as if he’d just disclosed the most precious secret in the universe. “Thank you, for trusting me.” With that, Logan nodded once, before sinking out to find Patton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many different names can I name Deceit? the world may never know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman deals with his feelings at the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter I have for now, folks. Expect more... eventually. Sooner rather than later, hopefully. I have an idea of where this is going, I just need to get it sorted enough to write.

Roman swung. His muscles were burning, he was slicked in a sheen of sweat, his usually pristine outfit was speckled with dark brackish red, the blood of the enemy army he’d summoned to do battle with staining his clothes. He twirled and parried and feinted and stabbed, the ground was slick with blood and dirt, his vision was obscured by his sweat and hair, but he pushed forwards because if he was moving, he didn’t have to think about it. About what could have been. 

What would it have been like, to have Anxiety from the start? 

Slice. Swing, shove. 

Teaching him to read over one of his fairytales, answering all his what ifs with pleasant conclusions and nonsense, assuring him that no monsters would get him as long as he was around. 

Parry, stab, twist. 

Logan, learning about ways to handle panic attacks and lower stress, teaching Anxiety the counting rhythm, smiling and proud when he memorized it, ruffling Virgil’s hair, who beamed up at him. 

Thrust, rip, dodge. 

Baking cookies with Patton. Coloring while Patton praised his art skills. Patton taking care of him when he was sick, or after every failed audition. All those moments, smiles, laughs, memories, how many were lies? 

How many times, had they been baking while Virgil was getting hurt? Smiling while Deceit was trapped in the subconscious? Laughing while Deceit fought the others, all alone, to keep Virgil safe, for just one day? How many times, how many lies, how DARE HE?” 

With a strangled and pained howl, Roman realized he’d cut down the last enemy. Despite the burning in his calves, the pounding of his heart, the pulsing of his lungs, he didn’t feel any better, still felt the manic energy racing in him. He screamed and threw his sword, implanting it deeply in the wood of a tree, before falling to his knees with a broken sob. 

Patton was supposed to be good. Patton was the nice one, the innocent one, the one he had to protect from the darkness and the evil because he was too naïve to see it coming. Deceit was supposed to be the villain, the tempter, the devil, here to drag them all down. He’d been wrong, he’d been so wrong, the devil had lived among them the whole time. 

Because what kind of person could banish a child to the subconscious? What kind of person could use it as a punishment and feel no remorse? It killed him, it killed him inside, thinking of what could have been. Virgil, smiling and happy and unscarred. Virgil, not afraid of touch, seeking out comfort when he felt overwhelmed, instead of pulling away and isolating himself. Virgil, trusting them to care for him, to help him, to hear him, to love him. 

He knew exactly what kind of person would do those things, and he let out another harsh sob, doubling over from the force of it and almost laughing, because it was always the one you’d least expect, wasn’t it? And God, wasn’t that ironic? 

He heard a low whistle from behind him. “Wowie, and I thought I was the messy one. Corpses, mud, blood, what a pleasant surprise!” Roman sniffled, trying to suppress his crying, wiping his sleeve across his face, realizing that smeared on more mud than wiped any away, but maybe it would conceal his tears. 

“What do you want, Remus?” He asked, wincing. His voice was unconvincing to his own ears, too flat and wavering. He heard Remus pause, could imagine the puzzled expression on his face. 

Most days, Roman tolerated Remus’s random appearances in his room, his side of the imagination. They would duel and fight and banter and sometimes adventure together, sometimes just sit and talk, sometimes just sit in silence. None of the others understood their relationship, they all probably thought that Roman and Remus hated each other, and some days they well and truly did. But most days they were just trying to puzzle out how they had once fit together, and how to achieve Thomas’s dreams together. 

“RoRo?” Remus asked hesitantly. Roman didn’t move, simply dropping his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. Remus hurried to his side, kneeling in the muck, not caring about the stains. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

“D-did you know? Ab-bout what Pat… what Morality did? To Virgil? T-to Deceit?” Roman mumbled, feeling Remus rest a hand on his leg, trying to focus on simply that point of contact instead of the emotions roiling inside of him. 

“Deceit told me, about the subconscious, yeah. I… helped keep an eye on things. While he was gone, whenever he vanished. But… what about Virgil? What does Patton have to do with him?” Roman looked up at him then, and Remus felt his breath catch. He’d never, never seen Roman look so broken, so vulnerable, so scared and confused and hopeless as he did just then. 

“Y-you don’t… he never…” Roman broke off, taking a deep breath to compose himself, before stumbling through an explanation of what had occurred in the commons, what Deceit had revealed and Patton had confirmed. 

Remus’s expression darkened, his eyes crackling with electric fury, and he would have vanished then and there to seek some well-earned vengeance on behalf of Virgil, had Roman not taken to clinging to his arm halfway through the story, emotionally and physically exhausted. 

“Y-you never hurt him, right? Ree, pl-please, y-you never-“ Remus pressed a finger to Roman’s lips, meeting his eyes with all the seriousness and focus he saved for emergencies. 

“No. I never once laid a hand on him. I would never hurt him, like that. If I saw the others doing it, I did my best to step in. But they learned to be stealthy, to wait until he was alone, and most of the time I spend out here, in the imagination anyways. And he was afraid of me. Once he made it clear our partnership was over, I tried to keep out of his way as much as I could.” Roman searched his eyes, his gaze, finding whatever sincerity he was looking for, and burst into tears, falling onto Remus’s lap, pressing his head against Remus’s chest, wrapping his arms around his brother’s middle as if he’d never let go. Remus was stunned by the contact, stunned by the tears, he hadn’t seen Roman like this since the very first, since the split.

“H-he hurt them. Aand he hid it. I tr-trusted him and he l-l-lied! I w-was supposed to pr-protect Virgil, and the whole t-time I was so awful to him, I j-just kept m-making him m-m-more afraid and he should never have had to be so sc-scared. It’s a-all wrong, Ree! E-everything is w-wrong, and I can’t fix it!” Roman sobbed into his shirt, and all Remus could do was hold him, tightly and fiercely, Roman clutching as his shirt with all the desperation of a man lost as sea clinging to the smallest piece of driftwood. 

After what felt like hours, Remus could feel the shaking begin to die down, the sobs fading into soft snuffles, Roman’s hands releasing the fabric he’d been clutching as he slumped back on his knees, face still miserable. 

“I’m sorry. I’m such a… a mess right now.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it, just a dry, broken sound. 

“I’ve been a mess my whole life, so I’m used to dealing with it.” Remus replied easily, a small smile flickering across Roman’s face for a moment. “Ro… this isn’t your job to fix. You can only… Ugh, I can’t…” Remus trailed off for a moment, taking a few deep breaths in and out. 

“Patton made his choices. You have all made choices. Some of yours have hurt Virgil in the past. So have some of Patton’s. But you can only make up for your own mistakes. You can’t… you can’t fix someone else’s. It’s not your job to fix someone else’s! And… and it’s ok to be overwhelmed, when everything you thought you knew changes, it’s ok to not know what to think or to be confused or… or conflicted. Just… people change, yeah? Just… remember that, before you do anything too stupid.” Roman looked up at his brother in awe, mouth clicking open and shut a few times. 

“Did you just… give me genuine and helpful… and thoughtful advice?” He squeaked out. Remus just smirked, looking away. 

“Come on, didn’t think I was a complete waste of space, did ya? Now, go have your love orgy with the other lights. Oh, and wash up first, unless they’re into that kind of thing. I’ve always theorized that Logan has a strong man bondage kink.” With a wink and shoulder wiggle, Remus vanished. Roman shook his head, puzzled, fond smile on his lips as he got to his feet. 

“For the record, I never said you were a complete waste of space! I only said you were almost a complete waste of space!” He yelled into the wind. He fancied that he heard a laugh on the breeze, accompanied by the smell of deodorant, before he snapped himself clean and sunk out to the commons.

…

Deceit froze as Roman appeared near the stairs, his hand stilling in its teasing of Virgil’s hair, the anxious side sprawled across the couch, passed out. The effort and focus it took to ignore summons, as well as keep his room as tightly locked as he had, had used nearly all of his energy, not to mention he hadn’t been eating or sleeping well to start with. Despite the turmoil going on, Virgil’s body desperately needed the rest, and when it was clear that despite himself, he was fighting a losing battle to stay awake, he’d stretched out, pulled a blanket over himself to fight off his ever present chill, and told Deceit to wake him if anything happened. 

Deceit stiffened as Roman shifted on his feet, half expecting him to draw his sword, to accuse him of meddling with everyone’s minds or whatever else Roman thought him capable of. Roman was always the one who had hated him most vehemently, the one who embraced the terms of “light” and “dark”, as if black to white wasn’t a spectrum. Roman opened his mouth, and Deceit flinched in resignation, ready for the tirade, the tangent, that would tear him down and force him to leave. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were soft, nearly whispered, and Roman was still looking down at the ground, as if afraid to meet his eyes, and Deceit’s mind short circuited. 

What? 

“What?” Roman cleared his throat, darting a nervous glance around the room, before resting once more on the floor. 

“I’m sorry. I… have treated you harshly, and unfairly. I haven’t… haven’t been very princely, towards you, and that… was wrong of me. I assumed the worst of you, because of your role and your appearance, even though I should have known better, learned from Virgil. Regardless I… never gave you a chance, I deemed you the villain before you ever spoke, I was hurtful and thoughtless and cruel. A… clueless moron, as I’m sure Virgil would put it.” The barest hint of a smile ghosted over Roman’s face, before he took a deep breath. “That’s… that’s all I came to say. You don’t… I’m not expecting you to forgive me, I just… needed to say this. Because I was wrong. And it hurt you. And I am sorry.” 

His mind was racing. He couldn’t believe it. Roman had just… just apologized? To him? And meant it? 

“Anyway, I’ll… I’ll be going, now. I doubt you want me, hanging around.” Roman looked as if he’d vanish and before he knew what he was doing, he’d opened his mouth. 

“Roman… wait. I… know this… shift in thinking, is hard. I… thank you, I guess.” He stumbled out, not knowing entirely what he was trying to say, but Roman seemed to understand, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly in relief. 

“Mm… Ro? You’re back...?” Virgil mumbled sleepily, eyes blinking open, still hazy with sleep. 

“Just for a sec. I was just leaving, Virg.” Virgil shook his head, trying to sit upright and failing miserably, as Deceit gently pushed him back down. 

“Don’t move, darling, you’re still sapped.” He murmured gently. Virgil didn’t need much convincing, instantly relaxing back under his touch, legs curling up under him as he buried his face in Dee’s lap, letting out a huge breath as he once again drifted off. 

Roman bit his lip, looking at the two of them. There was so much history there. He hadn’t had time, really, to mull over everything Deceit had said. But watching the two of them, it was clear that Deceit truly loved Virgil, the way he looked at him, the way he was so careful, so gentle with Virgil, showed all the emotion he’d ever hidden behind his sly smile and backwards words. 

He looked away as Deceit looked back up at him. He was ready to sink out, to leave them to their peace. 

“Roman. You can stay, if you like.” Roman shook his head. 

“No, I… I don’t want to intrude on you two, catching up.” He mumbled. 

“I think it’s clear Virgil would like you to stay. And I don’t mind it either, truly.” Deceit patted the spot on the couch beside Virgil. Roman hesitantly accepted the offer, sitting stiffly on the couch. After a few moments, Virgil seemed to register his presence, or his warmth, and stretched back out across the couch, laying on top of him. 

Roman chuckled fondly, realizing his own soft smile was mirrored by Deceit. As soon as their eyes met, they both looked away abruptly. 

“Logan’s speaking with Patton-“ 

“I can move your room-“ 

They both spoke at the same time, and it took a moment to decipher each other’s words. Deceit stilled, looking at Roman with something almost painful in his eyes. 

“what?” He asked softly. 

“I won’t if you don’t want me to, of course, I just… it’s not right, leaving you down there if you’re getting hurt-“ 

“No, I mean yes, I…” Deceit stopped, taking a breath and running a hand through his hair, pushing it back. 

“I thought only Patton could do that.” Roman’s eyes hardened at the mention of Patton. 

“We both can. Him, because he’s the one with the most influence on this side, me because of my imagination abilities, it’s easy for me to manipulate the mindscape.”

“yes. Please.” Deceit said quickly, hands shaking slightly as he stroked Virgil’s hair. He almost jumped as he felt Roman intertwine their fingers, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“It’s the least I can do to try and help fix this. Just give me a sec.” Roman’s eyes went unfocused and hazy as he sought out Deceit’s room in the mind, finding it and pulling it up, up, up, until he felt it settle in the hallway. He heard Deceit gasp and snapped to, looking him up and down. 

“What? Are you ok? Did that hurt you? Are-“ 

“I’m fine. It was just… a bit jarring.” Deceit almost laughed at Roman, fussing over him like a mother hen, when just hours ago he would have been brandishing a sword in his face. 

“Good. I… never wanted you hurt. Not really. I was…” 

“We were both playing the part, Roman. I understand.” He replied. He felt Roman squeeze his hand a little tighter. 

“Well, I don’t like the part I’ve been playing, very much. So, I’m changing the roles. You are now one of my wards, Deceit, and as long as you deign to stay under my care, I will let nothing harm you.” The words were gentle, but the tone was fierce, the bravado pushed aside in favor of sincerity that nearly overwhelmed him, that sunk into his bones, because for the first time ever, he could believe he was safe. Princey, of all people, was making sure he was safe. 

“I appreciate that. I think I’ll be changing my part to. Something like the annoyingly arrogant yet always right side kick.” A smile slipped onto his lips at Roman’s laugh, and he found himself leaning over, resting his head against Roman’s shoulder. For a moment, Roman froze, and he thought he had overstepped, thought Roman was going to reject him again, thought maybe this had all been a trap. 

Then Roman let out a soft breath and relaxed, and Deceit felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, filling him with warmth as he let his eyes slip closed, despite himself. 

“Don’t worry, my scaly compatriot. I’ll keep a lookout, wake you if anything needs your attention. I can’t imagine the last time you got a full night’s sleep.” He hummed in agreement, unable to argue, to fight past the soft, sweet darkness, pulling him down.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton breaks down and takes a drastic measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, one more chapter today, and maybe the rest within three or four days.

Patton collapsed to his knees in his room, doubled over from the force of the sobs wracking his body. 

He regretted it, he regretted all of it, he’d do anything to go back and do everything differently, he knew better now, he hadn’t understood, hadn’t known, hadn’t realized how wrong he was at the time, he’d been young and stupid and scared and so one minded and he hated himself for it, hated himself for everything he’d ever done back then, everything he’d thought, everything he’d been. 

The guilt ate him alive every time he looked at Virgil, he’d done his best to make it up to the side, to treat him with all the kindness and compassion his younger self hadn’t, to make him feel welcome and at home, because he was the one who had caused all his hurt, the least he could do was care for him, and despite it all, Virgil was sweet and kind and he was so, so good. 

And Patton was bad. Patton was foolishly, stupidly, evilly bad. All he’d done, all he’d lied about, because he was ashamed of it now, and Deceit had been right to reveal it, even if it hurt, even if no one ever trusted him or loved him again, they had deserved to know just what he was, just what he’d done, that he’d been a monster, was a monster, wasn’t worthy of being their dad. 

He’d been too afraid to tell them, too afraid to admit that he’d failed at everything his purpose was, failed at telling what was right and wrong, failed at acting morally, failed at protecting Thomas, and he’d hurt everyone, everyone he loved, still, even if they would never love him again, he didn’t deserve their love. He didn’t deserve them. He deserved their hatred and scorn and distrust and punishment, he deserved every scar that covered Virgil’s body, he deserved every iota of pain Deceit had ever experienced. He wished for it, because it would be less painful than this, than this agony that overwhelmed his heart, that tore him apart, that ripped through him with the force of a wildfire, because he was alone, alone, alone, hated, hated, hated and he deserved, deserved, deserved it all.

There was no way to fix this, no way to make this right, nothing he could do, anyone could do, to make any of this ok. He’d broken and battered and ruined everything, everything, just like he always did.

His room had changed, the usual sepia tinted blue shifting to a dark, empty gray, the crayon drawings on the wall fading to black scribbles, the happy photographs shifting to show Thomas’s sad memories. And it hit him, it him with sudden, frantic, clarity, just how he could make it up to them all, just how he could make things right, just how he could fix everything. 

He shot to his feet, breathing frantic and unsteady, hand shaking, tears falling as he put pencil to paper, smiling brightly despite the ache in his chest, the pain in his heart, because this would make everyone happy. 

Yes, he thought, as he sighed the letter, for once in his life he was sure, absolutely sure, that this was the right thing to do. 

…

“Patton? May I speak with you?” Logan knocked on Patton’s door, calling softly through the baby blue wood. No reply. “Patton? I understand you are upset, but we must speak about your actions.” He said, a bit sterner, knocking a bit louder. He frowned, still nothing, not even a single sound of movement. He tried the handle, mildly surprised as the door creaked open with a small push. 

It was dark. That was odd, Patton was mildly afraid of the dark. He always had some form of light source, be it a candle or a night light, on in his room. He reached for the light switch, eyes widening as the room became clear. 

The walls were dark gray, black streaks of ink dripping down the walls like tears, staining the floor. Everything had lost its color, the light from the lamp seemed dim, absorbed by the darkness creeping across the floor. All Logan could feel was an overwhelming emptiness and sorrow, a cold chill filling the air. 

“Patton?” He called again, softer, something cold settling in his chest, making his heart beat just a little bit faster.

He noticed a letter. It was the only thing untouched by the color drain from the room, from the ink bleeding through, the white shining like a beacon against the growing darkness. 

With trembling hands, he picked it up, unfolding it, reading and rereading it, unable to comprehend the words he was looking at, the sentences he was reading, it was like his brain had shut down as that cold feeling grew into a hunk of ice in his stomach. Fear. That’s what it was. He didn’t like this new feeling he was becoming acquainted with. 

No. No, he couldn’t, he hadn’t, he wouldn’t, how could he think, but why wouldn’t he think, of course, of course he could, would, no, Patton!

“Roman!” He raced down the stairs, seeing the flash of red on the couch, wincing as Nirhos startled awake, Virgil groggily blinking his eyes open. 

“Logan? What is it? Did you speak to Him yet?” Logan shook his head, breath coming short and quick, as he thrust the letter into Roman’s hands, starting to pace frantically. 

“I must have read it incorrectly. I… the stress must be inhibiting my reading comprehension, it cannot have said what I believed it to, I must be wrong, I must-“ 

“Logan. Breathe.” Nirhos interrupted, helping Virgil to sit up, who tenses, eyes going wide as he reads the letter over Roman’s shoulder, starting to shake. Roman drops it, the paper fluttering to the ground, and Nirhos picks it up. 

“I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t begin to fix things, I know I never can fix things, but I still need to say it and hope one day, you might believe it. I was stupid and dumb and ignorant and I hurt all of you, Deceit and Virgil especially. I never intended to act maliciously. I didn’t realize what I was doing to you, how I was hurting you, at the time.  
I know you won’t believe me, but I didn’t stop because I was afraid everyone would find out what I’d done. I stopped because found out what it was like in the subconscious, and I was horrified. I didn’t know that’s what it was. I thought it was blank walls, a time out, I didn’t realize it hurt, like that. I didn’t realize I’d caused you to hurt like that, caused Virgil to hurt, like that. I didn’t understand what fading meant, really meant, I didn’t understand death. I do now.  
I’ve made mistakes. I’ve made so, so many mistakes. They can never be fixed, I, can never be fixed. I’ve failed, horribly and utterly, at being Morality, at being a friend, at being a parent, at being a person, at being Patton. I have regretted everything I ever did to you, Deceit, everything I put you through, Virgil, and I wish with all my heart I had been smarter, nicer, kinder, back then, instead of the coward I was to send you away without even giving you a chance. Giving either of you a chance.  
I wish with all my heart I could take your pain on as my own, I could shoulder your burdens, I could remove every scar from your bodies and endure them for you, as I should have. Deceit was right, Virgil. You were never made for the darkness. You both can do so much good, you both have so much potential, all the potential I have wasted.  
Logan. I want you to let yourself open up. I want you to let yourself feel, because I know you do, so strongly and passionately, you care, about everyone else, about Thomas, about science and facts and you’re too hard on yourself, sometimes. Relax, kiddo. Let yourself get taken care of every once in a while. They’re going to need your level head, and your enormous heart.  
Roman. Be passionate, be loud, be yourself, and don’t be afraid to ask for help, to say you’re not doing ok, to take breaks from brainstorming. I know you stay up almost all night, most days, working. Ease up on yourself, kiddo. You’re doing great. They’re going to need that fire, they’re going to need your light.  
Virgil. I love you, kiddo. Not out of guilt, not out of pity or fear or anything else, I love you for you, kiddo. I love your small, fleeting smile, I love your soft, warm laugh, I love your snorts of amusement, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, I love how strong and brave and smart you are, how hard you work to keep everyone safe. You are so, so good. Never doubt that. Never doubt yourself.  
Deceit. You know what I want to say, without me having to say it. You know what I’m doing, already, I’m sure. Thank you, for doing such a thankless task. For doing the hard work, the dirty work, day after day after day. Thank you for raising Virgil, for doing all that you could for him, for being kinder than I ever have been. They need your strength, now. They need you, now, kiddo. I know you’ll be great.  
I’m leaving, now. Unlike Deceit and Virgil, I deserve the pain. I deserve to fade. I’m leaving you to lead your lives, to be happy, to be brilliant, without me weighing you down, holding you back, failing again and again at my purpose. It’s the least I can do to make up for everything. It’s the only way to fix, everything.  
So, smile. It’ll all be better, soon. I promise.

I’m sorry. I love you.  
Patton.”

“no.” Nirhos whispered, horrified eyes meeting Roman’s. “no, he can’t…” 

“he can and he has, apparently. We need… we need to locate him, immediately, and bring him back. Our personal thoughts on the matter are irrelevant, Thomas needs Patton to function. All of us working together cannot replace him.” Logan said, still pacing furiously, worry etching itself in lines across his face. 

“If he doesn’t want to be found, it will be nearly impossible. It’s huge, and endlessly shifting, and impossible to navigate. And if he wants to fade, it will go so much faster.” Nirhos said defeatedly. 

“we have to do something, Dee. We can’t lose him. what do we do? How do we find him?” Nirhos hugged Virgil tighter, feeling him trembling. 

“Remus. Me and Remus can find him. King could maneuver through the subconscious. We’ve tried it a few times. It’s a lot, it hurts after a while, but not for a good hour or so.” 

“That’s not a lot of time, Roman.” Logan replies, stopping to look carefully at the prince. 

“No. But it’s enough. We will find him.” 

“I’m coming too.” 

“Absolutely not.” Three sets of voices chorused, making Virgil sink in on himself, but didn’t back down. 

“Stop me, then. I go with you, or I go on my own. It’s not like I don’t know what it’s like. What do you think ducking out means? I can handle it.” Virgil bit back, glaring down the rest of them. Nirhos sighed, nodding once. 

“Fine. I can’t stop you. But please, please be careful.” 

“Of course, pops. REMUS!” He called, the creative side stumbling as he appeared in the living room, mid bite of deodorant, clearly confused. 

“Uhhhmmm did you mean to do that? And why does it look like you’ve all been to a funeral?” He asked, shoving the deodorant, uncapped, back in his pocket. 

“Because if we don’t move fast, we will be.” Quickly, Logan explained what had happened, handed the note to Remus to read, whose expression quickly darkened as he read every word. 

“That is some bullshit, right there. He doesn’t get say all that then just leave, that’s not how this works! He doesn’t get out of this so easily! Come on, RoRo, Virgie, it’s go time!” Confidently, he reached out his hands. Roman took his easily, but Virgil hesitated, before slipping his hand into Remus’s. 

“Remus. Take care of them.” Nirhos implored, and Remus nodded.

“I will. I’ll bring them all home.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton is retrieved from the subconscious.

Deceit was right. Fading hurt like hell. It burned cold as ice, it ripped you apart, it dissolved you slowly, piece by piece. 

At least, it did at first. 

He’d stopped fighting it, stopped struggling against it. It was so hard, to stop his instincts, like forcing yourself to drown in a puddle of water, but he forced his muscles still, forced his mind empty, and let himself drift. 

Now he was mostly numb. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes, the ice filling his veins, weighing him down, eyes slipping closed. It was almost peacefully, the fuzzy warmth of the cold that filled him. 

The subconscious was a wash of colors and light, ever shifting and ever changing, faster than anyone could possibly process. It was vague impressions of shapes and sounds and colors, a cacophony of emptiness so loud it was deafening, and time quickly lost any and all meaning. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing did. Thomas needed the idea of morality, the concept. He didn’t need that concept to be a person. That was all due to Thomas’s strong imagination, his need to talk through problems to resolve them. In the end, all he was was a glorified imaginary friend. He wasn’t destroying himself completely, after all. Just him, as a side. Him as a person. He was extraneous to his purpose. Extraneous. Logan would have been proud, using a big word like that. 

The others would be better off without him. Thomas still had plenty of people to work out his problems with. Still would have his sense of right and wrong. Still would be a good kiddo, would maybe even eventually make a better Morality. 

He sniffled, a muted pain singing through his bones at the movement, at the acknowledgement of his body. He was almost translucent, now, his colors muted and draining faster by the second, leaching away his warmth and strength. He let his head loll back, arms falling limply to his side. He was so tired. It felt so good, letting go. It just hurt to let them go. 

“Patton!” The voice was distant, but unmistakably Roman. He bit his cheek to keep from calling out, it would just make things worse, if they saw him now. But that action brought a wash of agony through his disintegrating arms, and he let out a soft whimper, curling against himself. 

“Over there! I see something!” Remus? What was he doing here? 

“Patton… oh fuck.” 

“language… Virgil…” He choked out, managing to peel open his eyes, Virgil’s blurry face coming into view, eyes searching his for something. 

“No. Fuck that. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The anger was rolling off him in waves, and Patton hissed in a breath, needing to breathe again, ignoring the wash of electricity through his veins. 

“Thomas needs the idea of morality. He’ll have it. He doesn’t need the person morality. I’ll be a function. Not a person. i…. I failed, as a person. I’m making everything better.” 

“Bullshit. That is bullshit. You think this is making things better!? You think leaving a letter, then offing yourself fixes anything!? You think this will make us all, what, happy?! Do I look happy, Patton!?” Virgil yelled, eyeshadow dark and dripping, frantic energy casting a dark shadow. 

“I don’t… understand. Why… it’s better… it’ll be better… without me.” 

“I thought that same thing about myself once, Patton. But this? This isn’t going to solve anything. It isn’t going to fix anything. The only way to fix things is hard work, this? This is running away. This is breaking everything all over again. We’re angry. We’re hurt. We love you. We hate you. We need you. We don’t know if we want to. We can feel all those things at once, Patton. But the only way to sort it all out is to talk about them.” Tears dripped down his face, and he curled tighter, feeling every cell as it tingled back to life, pins and needles stabbed into his skin as it became solid once more, as everything that had dissolved away reformed. 

“I hurt everyone. I hurt everyone so bad, I made you hurt so bad, I made deceit hurt so bad, and it hurt roman and it hurt logan and I just want it to be over, I just want to stop all the hurt, I don’t know how to stop all the hurt. I don’t know how to make everything better.” 

“this isn’t the way, padre. Logan’s a mess, pacing, losing his mind, counting out every second we’re in here looking for you. Deceit isn’t much better. He doesn’t like you, but he can’t let you do this to yourself. Virgil and I are… conflicted, but this isn’t right, this doesn’t help anyone, this just makes it easier on yourself. You committed the crime, you don’t get to choose the punishment. You don’t get to make things worse by leaving.” Roman said lowly, voice soft, yet stern. 

“I’m just here so Roman doesn’t fall apart on his own. Plus, can’t let little Virgie here get lost!” 

“Virgil-“ Patton gasped, groggy mind realizing what it meant that he was in the subconscious, he’d start fading away too and he’d already been through that- 

“Their influence is protecting me, but it’s starting to wear off. We’re taking you back, Patton. We can’t let you do this. We won’t let you do this.” Patton nodded, looking down at what passed for the ground. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He whispered. Virgil sighed. 

“I know you are, Pat.” He murmured back, and Patton cried again as he felt Virgil gently ruffle his hair. “And I know you mean it, even if you chose the shittiest possible way to show it.” 

He felt someone scoop him up in their arms, his awareness fading out as his exhaustion took hold, as he gave in to the darkness dancing at the corners of his vision, too done to care anymore what happened next. He felt a shift, then he was gone. 

…. 

Logan and Nirhos jumped as the others reappeared in the living room. 

“did you-" 

“We got ‘em teach. He’s done a number on himself, though.” Roman replied, shifting the bundle in his arms so they could see Patton lolling limply, still pale and drained of color. Logan slumped back against the couch, letting out a long breath. Nirhos stared at Patton's unresponsive face, trying to puzzle out what he was feeling. 

“Dee? You ok?” Remus asked, letting go of Roman's hand, kneeling before Nirhos. 

“I… don’t know. I…” Remus gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I know. And it’s ok.” 

“I didn’t want this. I didn’t think he would do this.” 

“I know.” 

“We should get him in bed. Someone should stay with him. Just… just in case.” 

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, Lo. I don’t think any of us are letting him out of our sight.” Virgil answered, perching atop a small end table. 

Roman laid him down on the couch, wrapping him in a cocoon of blankets, trying to get warmth back into his frozen cold body. 

He was a bit surprised as Deceit moved closer, lifting Patton's head onto his lap, gently stroking his hair. He was crying, and he wasn’t even sure why, there was just too much in his mind, in his heart, to keep in. 

“Oh, Dee. It’s alright, love. It’ll be alright.” Roman murmured, settling on the couch beside him, reaching out and wiping away his tears gently. Nirhos shivered at the touch, leaning into as Roman continued stroking his scaled cheek with his thumb. “you get some rest, dear. You’ve been through a lot, too.” Reluctantly, Nirhos's eyes drifted closed, unable to resist the allure of sleep with Roman’s gentle touch warming him from the inside out. 

“when did you become a snake charmer, Ro? Remus asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Roman rolled his eyes, bumping Remus’s shoulder gently as he settled on the couch between him and Logan. 

“since I realized what a disaster everyone here apparently is, myself included.” He replied, noticing the smallest hint of a smile that tugged at Virgil’s lip from the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, I've always been a disaster.” Remus commented idly, fishing his deodorant back out of his pocket, taking a bite. 

“Ree, that’s literally your job. I, on the other hand, do it for the aesthetic.” Virgil countered, still crouched on the table, looking as if he was contemplating trying to climb higher, onto the top of the bookshelf. 

“You are all incorrigable.” Logan muttered with a huge sigh, still slumped against the couch. 

“Aw, come on, Lolo! You can’t just talk dirty to me like that without expecting me to get hard.” Roman squawked, shoving Remus off the couch, freezing as Deceit shifted in his sleep, the whole room holding its breath until he resettled. 

“If I didn’t have a sleepy snake I would stab you right now!” Roman whisper shouted. Remus scoffed, grinning. 

“You would try! I’m too fast for your dumb sword.” 

“How dare- A morning star is much more unwieldy of a weapon! And my sword is not dumb! It is a katana! It's capable of cutting steel!” 

“That... is highly inaccurate.” Logan replied, amusement coloring his tone. 

“Would you all shut up, please? Jaunts in the subconsious make my head hurt. And your stupidity is not helping.” Virgil groaned, having successfully stretched out along the top of the bookshelf, somehow wrapped in a blanket and laying on a pillow. 

“Where did you get those!?” Remus asked, and Virgil smirked. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boi?” Roman snorted and Remus cackled, leaving Logan confused, but amused at everyone else’s apparent enjoyment, before adjusting his glasses. 

“Virgil is correct. Today has been... stressful, to say the least. And we all should try to get some rest. We need to be fully functional when we deal with... with all of this.” He’s surprised when the twins instantly agree with him, Remus curling up behind the couch, insisting he liked the dark, small space, something about it feeling like a mummy’s tomb, summoning a blanket and pillow. Logan curled up in his arm chair, and Roman stretched out his legs to rest on a foot stool, unable to move much more than that or risk waking Nirhos. In moments, the house was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying really hard with this one. I know a lot of people have a lot of conflicting feelings about Patton, which is what I was aiming for with this, so as we get closer to the resolution just know I'm taking all the comments into account when trying to craft the best, most realistic ending possible.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a break down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LOOK, I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT!   
> sorry it took so long, I just really wanted this to be good and realistic and not necessarily a fairy tale happy ending, so I hope I did alright.

It was quiet. Quiet, but not silently loud, like it had been. There were soft voices, speaking, talking, moving around him, and he smiled as he stretched sleepily, hearing his kiddos. 

Then he opened his eyes, and everything came rushing back, and he wished he could go back to sleep, because everyone was staring at him with varying expressions of worry and anger and fear and concern and he hated that he was the cause of it. That what he had done, had been the cause of it. 

“Patton-“ Deceit, he was laying in Deceit’s lap, and he shot up instantly, shoving himself to the other side of the couch, because there was no way Deceit wanted to be touching him, no way he deserved comfort from him, of all people, and he fought to keep his mind in a state of calm. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

“Are you? Cause going galivanting in the subconscious is kinda a dick move, Patty cake.” He flinched at the coldness of Remus’s voice, the sting in it, but he deserved it. 

“I know.” He whispered. 

“Patton. What led you to the conclusion that we, much less Thomas, did not require your presence as a side any longer?” He let out an astonished laugh. What had led him to that conclusion? Was he serious? 

“it should be obvious, Logan. I’m sure you could list the reasons.” 

“He could guess. But we need to hear it from you, Patton. We can’t figure this all out if you don’t tell us. So what’s wrong?” He choked on a sob, shoving it back down. He didn’t get to cry. 

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is I’ve never known what’s right! From day one, from the first choice I made, I chose wrong. I did wrong. I hurt and broke and wrecked everything. What good is a Morality that has never once been moral? And that’s just me to Thomas, how I am supposed to help him do the right thing when I have never done it before? 

And with all of you, all I do is continuously hurt you! I just wanted to stop hurting you all, I just wanted you all to be happy, and you were all angry, and you should be, and I’ve always been the one holding you back, holding everyone apart, tearing everything apart, and without me you could all get along, you could be happy, you could forget about me and you wouldn’t have to be reminded of all the ways and times I senselessly, stupidly, cruely hurt you, without even thinking I was doing it, without even contemplating what I was doing, because I was stupid and horrible and wrong and bad and you’re all too good, for me. I don’t want to break you anymore, I don’t want to hurt you anymore, I don’t want to be bad and wrong, and I don’t know how to stop, I’m scared, I’m scared I’ll do it again, and I can’t… I can’t risk that, I can’t risk hurting any of you again…” He devolved into sobs, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head in them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…” He could barely breathe, through his tears, refusing to look up, refusing to see whatever their faces held. “I just want you all to be safe. Even… even if that means I need to disappear, I will do it, to keep you all safe.” 

“Patton. You’re… right, about some things. What you did, it was horrible and wrong and senseless. But… but you recognize that. You know it. Admitting to your mistakes, admitting you were wrong, that’s a step in the right direction.” Patton shook his head. 

“it’s not enough, it doesn’t make up for anything, it doesn’t fix anything.” He rebuked at Virgil’s soft words. 

“Neither does you fading.” He didn’t move a muscle as he felt the couch press down, Virgil sitting down near him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Would you stop apologizing? We all read your note, we all know how sorry you are, we all know how guilty you feel, and we all know you should feel that way, but that doesn’t give you permission to hurt yourself! Especially when it only hurts everyone else more!” Remus snapped, and he flinched, because even when he was so desperately trying to do the right thing, he fucked it all up. He bit back another apology, because that wasn’t what they wanted to hear, he didn’t know what they wanted to hear, that was the problem, he couldn’t make this better, he couldn’t do anything right, everything he said just hurt everyone more, and he didn’t know what to do. 

“Then what do you want from me!?” He shouted, finally looking up, looking around the room, eyes blurred with tears. “I don’t have anything else! I don’t have reasons, I don’t have excuses, I don’t have anything but words that don’t mean a damn thing! I tried to be better, I tried to be the person I always should have been, I tried to be kind and good and compassionate, and change, and I did, and I know I was wrong, I know I was awful, I know I was cruel, but knowing it isn’t enough, I know it isn’t! I tried to fix my mistakes, and everyone still got hurt, no matter what I do I’m always hurting someone, no matter what I choose I always choose wrong, and I’ve never made a single right choice in my life, so how am I supposed to be Morality when I can’t even make my own decisions correctly?! When I was so broken and corrupted and evil from the start, without even realizing it!? That I didn’t even give a child a chance, and I tried locking Deceit away?! There’s nothing that can change what I did, who I was, so I thought we might as well start over, so none of you ever had to see my face again and relive any of the... the shit I put you through again, so maybe everyone could heal and work together, and maybe a new and better Morality would come along eventually, and it’s not like I’ve ever done anything right, anyways, so it’s not like Thomas would miss me, since you all are capable of making decisions a thousand times better, without me standing in the way of everyone just getting along, like I’ve always done! So I’m sorry! I’m sorry that I’m sorry and I’m sorry that I’m sorry doesn’t fix anything, and I’m sorry I keep saying it, but it’s the only thing I have because it’s the only thing I’m ACTUALLY GOOD AT, AND IT’S ALL THAT I HAVE LEFT OF MYSELF!” He finished, screamed, realizing he’s standing, tears streaming down his face, hands trembling at his sides, and he futily swiped at his face. “so I'm sorry. I w-won't do it a-gain. N-not unless you de-cide I should go, after all. I’ll b-be in my room.” He mumbled, the anger of moments before faded to a dull, aching loathing, a defeated kind of exhaustion, as he sunk out, faceplanting on his bed, not bothering to even take off his shoes as he curled tight against a stuffed animal, crying numbly as he realized it was one Roman had made for him. A patchwork lion, and he closed his eyes, trying not to shake at the force of the sweeping, broken nostalgia. 

Because it was a lie. The nostalgia was a horrible, terrible lie, that his room was built on, that he was built on, as the foundation for memories. Remembering better times, simpler times, happier times, but it was all fake. The sepia hid the scars, the sparkle of childhood hid the cruelty of the world, the promise of simplicity hid the shades of gray, shades he’d learned to see far too late, to appreciate only after he’d already harmed everyone in irrevocable ways. It was nearly funny, in a twisted sort of way, how much he’d distrusted and despised Deceit for so long, for lying, when that was all he himself did, constantly, not only to the others, but to himself. To Thomas. To everyone, about everything, and he wondered if he looked back, back through the scrap books, through the memories, without the lens of childhood, if he would find a single moment, where he’d done the right thing.   
…   
He avoided the others. He only came out of his room if he was sure everyone else was elsewhere. He didn’t spend time in the commons anymore, his usual chair was perpetually empty, his cheery whistling or soft humming creating a silence no one had anticipated, hadn’t even realized was there, steady, the background noise to their day. He came out and got food at night, after he was sure everyone else was in bed, making sure to leave some evidence of his presence so the others wouldn’t feel the need to check on him, enough to assure them he was still there, hadn’t tried leaving again. 

He felt lost. Listless. He found he spent most of his time lying in bed, staring absently up at the ceiling, the silence echoing in his ears as his mind drifted, blank, numb. He thought he heard his door open, occasionally, someone peeking in, but he didn’t move to look, didn’t care. He wouldn’t impose himself on them. Wouldn’t force them to endure his presence. If they wanted him for something, they knew where he was, and he tried to pretend it didn’t sting, that no one had come for him, yet. 

Despite all his time spent in bed, he wasn’t sleeping. Not really. He’d drift, in a sort of half haze, eyes unfocused until the room swirled into vague shapes and colors, his mind slipping through memories in a detached kind of way, snippets of conversations or moments that passed too quickly for him to place them, sinking deeper into his numbing, aching, apathy. 

He was in the kitchen. It was late, or at this point, early, nearly two am. Even Virgil was sound asleep by this time, so it was safe for him to search for leftovers, though he simply grabbed a snack bar instead. He wasn’t really that hungry. He didn’t even want to eat, really, but he knew that he needed to, that his body needed to, so he forced himself to take a bite and swallow, though it seemed to scrape his throat going down. 

He blinked at the sudden light flooding the room, squinting his eyes, turning slowly to face the doorway, shoulders slumped and eyes on the floor. 

“patton.” He winced at Deceit’s voice, sinking further into himself, into his own misery. 

“i didn’t know you were up. I'll go.” he took a step, but his head spun, and his black spots ate at his vision, sending him stumbling, caught and steadied by Deceit, though he flinched back from his touch as soon as he regained his balance, leaning back against the kitchen counter instead, squeezing his eyes closed as he counted in and out, breathing to clear his head. 

“Oh, Patton. When was the last time you slept?” He shook his head, still not opening his eyes, trying to dim the sobs already welling in his chest. That seemed to be all he was good at, now, crying. 

“dunno. I drift off sometimes, I think. Don’t really know what day it is. Don’t actually know anything, so's not like it matters.” He laughed weakly, sharp and high, catching his voice before it turned into tears. 

“you know, once I would have relished seeing you like this, Patton. I would have reveled in seeing you brought so low, fallen so far from your gleaming pedestal of perfection. I would have lapped up your misery like fine wine, knowing you finally received your just desserts.” He swallowed hard, hands unconsciously wrapping around his middle. “it would be so much simpler if I still could.” Deceit murmured, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. 

“I deserve it.” He mumbled, finally opening his eyes in surprise as he felt Deceit’s gloved hand tilting up his chin, the scaled side standing close before him, eyes soft and glittering. 

“you’ve spent so much time living in the past, Patton. So have I. But we have both changed and grown since then. You are not the same person who chose to hurt me, chose to hurt Virgil. And I am not the same person who was swallowed by his bitterness and his pain.   
It’s ok to be confused, Patton. To feel lost. But you can’t keep giving in to it.” He shuddered and looked away, pulling away from the soft touch, though it was all he wanted. 

“there’s nothing else I can do. They don’t want to hear me, they don’t want to see me, they don’t want my apologies, and they don’t even want to let me try and speak through my actions. If no one will give me a chance, how am I ever supposed to get better?   
What else am I supposed to do, but give up? There’s nothing...” His voice broke, and despite himself he’s crying again, legs shaking as his chest heaves. “there’s nothing else. There's nothing but the pain I caused everyone else rebounding back at me, and how am I supposed to even try and fight it when I don’t have anything to fight for, anymore? When I don’t... I don’t have anyone.” 

He’s surprised as warm arms encircle him from behind, pulling him close, and he can’t help himself as he lets out a strangled wail, caving into the warmth, breathing in the scent of books and tea and it’s Logan, holding him firm, holding him steady, and he cries harder. 

“you’re right. I’m sorry, Patton, you’re right. It is unfair to expect you to show progress if we do not even give you a chance to move forwards with us. If we shun and exclude you we do nothing but punish you further for something you have already been punishing yourself for.” He felt another set of arms encircling him, and he gasped, legs giving out, because he doesn’t need to see to recognize the feel of that hoodie, of Virgil. 

“You fucked up. But... but you know it. And even though none of us knew what you did, you were still... trying, y’know? You were still trying to be better and fix it, and yeah, everything still isn’t great, and I don’t... I don’t know, how I feel, still. You don’t have my trust anymore, Pat, and not my love, not like before, but you can have another shot, at this. To earn it back.” 

He nodded against Logan’s chest, too overwhelmed for words, because that’s all he needed, just a sliver of hope that things can get better, just a sliver of hope that he can do things right, this time, just a sliver of hope that maybe, someday, he can be one of them, again. 

Then they drew back and he turned, looking at Roman, hovering the doorway, looking at him like he was a ghost. He opened and closed his mouth several times, before simply looking away, not saying a word. 

Then Roman held out a hand, nodding smally as he reached out, shaking it once before Roman pulled him into the briefest of loose hugs. 

“Do. Better.” Roman whispered in his ear, voice shaking, and he nodded, meeting his eyes as he stepped back. 

“i will. I swear, I will.” He replied, swaying on his feet as exhaustion hit him, weighing him down from all the stress and tears and aching hope blooming in his chest. Deceit caught him with an arm around his shoulder, and he sleepily nuzzled closer, relishing the warmth. 

“thank you. I... thank you.” He whispered, knowing Deceit would be able to understand all the feelings he couldn’t find the words to express, all the broken relief and sweeping hope and endless, relentless fear and apprehension, but that was ok, because he had a chance. That’s all he’d wanted, was just a chance. 

“i know. Let’s get you some actual sleep. I’m sure we won’t at all have to discuss this more in the morning, and it certainly won’t be awkward at all.” He managed a small laugh, smile lingering at Deceit’s backwards speech, not noticing Deceit’s own small sigh of relief at his reaction. That Patton was feeling something, anything, again. 

Tomorrow everyone would be awkward and quiet and unsure of themselves, dancing on eggshells, afraid of saying something wrong, not knowing what to say at all. It would be like a newborn faun learning to walk, all of them learning how to navigate their relationships all over again, starting over essentially from scratch, shaky and halting and terrifying, with so much to lose. But they’d find their footing, pick up the pieces, start moving once more, like riding a bike. 

It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t be fast. It wouldn’t be pleasant. But that was alright. 

Because it would be real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End


End file.
